


How Many Miles

by dizzy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: CrissColfer Big Bang, Drinking Problem, M/M, escort!chris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 03:37:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2758124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Fine. You're a closeted actor with a drinking problem, and I'm the prostitute you're fucking. Maybe you're right, maybe we do belong together.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Many Miles

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thanks to Mav and Luckie for beta reading, and to Lindsey for running the CCBB!
> 
> Also check out [the amazing fanmix](http://savvymavvy.tumblr.com/post/104981753429/how-many-miles-left-to-you-a-fanmix-for-how) by Mav!

Chris is the type that a lot of guys want. 

He’s not illegal but he looks it; he’s not a threat to anyone’s masculinity, he’s unassuming at best. He can transition from leather pants and a bondage collar to slouchy jeans and a t-shirt when he needs to, and he’s capable of pulling both looks off. He can do innocent, act like a virgin, suck cock - 

He always wanted to be an actor growing up. Hollywood wasn’t so kind to him in the field of actual paying acting jobs, but he carved out a lucrative little niche for himself in this town of fucked up people harboring secrets. His company was one of many eager to snap up a red-faced virginal kid reeking desperation and not particularly attached to any sense of sex and sexuality-oriented ethics. He’s lucky one of the good places grabbed him. Good may be relative in this line of work, but no one beats him and no one takes more than their fair share of his money and he gets to be picky with his clients, at least. 

So he’ll smile like they want and bend like they want and be… whatever the client wants. 

*

Chris recognizes this guy, of course. He used to be on a show, and Chris remembers it from those rough first couple years he had. He still leaves the channel there if he passes a rerun. The plotlines are dumb and none of the actors look like they’re even in high school, but the music is catchy and the faces are pretty. 

His is one of the prettiest, actually. Head full of messy curls, big puppy dog eyes when he plays them up for the camera. But there's no camera right now and the man in front of Chris just looks tired, unshaven, and probably a little bit drunk. 

Drunk can be good or bad. Sometimes it lets them sidestep the awkward conversation, sometimes they take it too far and Chris ends up bouncing on a dick that's never gonna shoot off for an hour before the lazy asshole under him passes out. Chris still has to stick around for the time they've paid for even if that happens, and it's boring as hell. He's never been the type of guy who wants to earn money for doing nothing. He prefers active clients. The time passes by faster when he's working toward a goal. 

But this guy - Darren Criss - he doesn't seem too drunk. "Whiskey?" He asks, leading Chris in past the foyer. 

"Sure," Chris says easily. "Whatever you're having is fine." 

It's an apartment, but it doesn't look like it's all that lived in. Probably rented for the night, for the week - maybe for the year if Darren does this often enough. Some celebrities are skittish about letting escorts into their actual homes for security reasons, or privacy ones. Chris has never stolen from a client, and he never will, but he understands the concerns. It's not personal. There's just a reputation with hookers, even ones you pay a couple grand an hour to. 

"Go on, sit," Darren says, gesturing to the overlarge leather sofa. His body is lax, like he's trying to hide the tension Chris can still spot underneath. It probably fools most people. Chris just has a good eye for that.

"Oh god, I love this couch," Chris says, running a hand over the buttery leather of the arm of it. 

Darren makes a snorting sound. "Thanks, it probably cost enough money to feed a third world country for a month." 

"The leather probably wouldn't taste that good, though," Chris shoots back. 

"Wow, is that supposed to be smooth? Because now you just seem like a dork." Darren rolls his eyes, but hands him the whiskey, neat. Chris is usually more of a mixers kind of guy but he can deal with this. He takes a sip. It's good - not good enough that he doesn't have to work to avoid pulling a face, but good. 

"Sorry." Chris grins. He's not sorry. Something tells him Darren doesn't want him completely demure anyway. It seems like a good call. "If you prefer someone a little less dorky, I'm sure the agency could get someone else over."

"No, Darren says. "You'll do." 

"Good." Chris smiles, and he means it. He's not sure why yet, but his instincts are usually good. He trusts them. 

"So," Darren says, looking him up and down. "I paid you to fuck me." 

Chris laughs. "Well, you paid me. What for is mostly up to you." 

"But not entirely?" Darren asks.

"I have my limits," Chris says. "We can discuss them, if you'd like? Or I can just politely stop you if at any point during, should you do something I'm uncomfortable with." 

"Second one, I think," Darren says. 

"And it goes both ways," Chris says. "If I do anything you aren't consenting to, you can tell me. This is about making you comfortable and satisfied with our encounter." 

"What if I just don't know what I want?" Darren asks. 

"Well, then." Chris pauses to take another sip, and maybe a little bit just for effect. "We'll make that our goal. Find out what you want." 

Darren definitely looks intrigued by that. "Okay." 

"Can I ask you a couple of questions? Things I just need to know, before we get down to it." Chris has read Darren's new client survey on the site, but sometimes people are a little more forthcoming with specifics in person. 

Darren takes a longer drink of his whiskey, almost finishing it off. He licks his lips and then says, "Go for it." 

"Questions first, maybe." Chris waits for Darren to get it, then smirks and continues. "Have you ever been fucked by a guy before?"

"Not anal," Darren answers. "Other stuff. Fooled around some. Threesomes." 

"Are you interested in anal?" Chris asks. 

Darren hesitates. “Yeah? I mean. I am. I think I am.” 

Chris smiles gently. “We’ll go your speed, don’t worry.” 

*

Chris expects Darren to fall asleep after. He’ll let him get nice and sleepy, then wake him up with a kiss to the cheek and a whispered goodbye when Darren is too comfortable in bed to coax him to stay. 

That's how this normally works. But Darren isn’t falling asleep. Instead, he’s just watching Chris. 

“What?” Chris asks, head tilted curiously toward Darren. 

Darren asks, “Can I see you again?” 

“Of course,” Chris says. ”There’s a place to request me on the site.” 

“Can I get a retainer thing going?” Darren wonders, turning onto his side and staring at Chris. He seems wide awake. Chris isn't sure why, but he's glad. 

Sometimes walking away is hard. Not usually this early on, though. 

Chris laughs. “As long as you have no Pretty Woman fantasies, sure.” 

“Dude, Pretty Woman? You probably make more than me,” Darren says, snorting. “And yeah, yeah, cool. I just - it doesn’t have to be sex, right?” 

“Well, no,” Chris answers. Darren wouldn’t be the first person who wanted him for something that didn’t strictly involve orgasms. “I can attend events with you. You do run a risk of me being recognized by a previous client, but my discretion is guaranteed and… well, honestly, if they’re ordering from the service then they aren’t likely to want anyone else to know how they know me.” 

“Oh, good to know. But I just meant like - hang out? Can we hang out some time? Can I buy you as a friend?” Darren tries to sound like he's making a joke, but he isn't and they both know it. 

Chris’s game face breaks a little. "Exclusively as a friend? Was there something lacking in the sex?" 

He thinks he met Darren's expectations, maybe even exceeded them, but he also wants to be sure. 

“What?” Darren is confused. “Oh, fuck, no. No way, that was - you blew my fucking mind. I just, I liked hanging out with you, too. I liked the dinner and all that. It’s cool to talk to someone I feel like I can be myself with. Hanging out with you… it reminds me of when I was in college, before the whole fucking world was shoving me into a box and telling me it was for my own good.” 

"Oh," Chris says. He feels goosebumps on his arms. There's so much he could say - so many ways he can relate to that. Flashbacks to high school, to lonely walks home listening to the ugly words thrown at him, to the way his mother always found him a date to school dances and the look in her eyes that always had him agreeing to it. He and Darren, they're not the same at all in most ways, but maybe they do have a few things in common that Chris hadn't expected. In the end, all he says is, "Okay. We can work that out." 

*

“You said events, but like - is it against the rules to want to take you out?” Darren asks, voice a shade too casual. 

“What? Like on a date?” Chris asks back in return. 

Darren shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, I know this little Thai place, if you like Thai.” 

Darren Criss doesn’t just casually go out anywhere. 

But he might. He’d like to try it. 

“I do,” Chris says. He unfolds his legs and smiles at Darren. “We can go out, sweetie. It’s fine. Just as long as you keep one thing in mind.”

“What?” 

“That I’m here because you’re paying me.” Chris says it so kindly, like it really is just a friendly reminder, that it almost doesn’t hurt. 

*

It doesn’t take long for Darren to become a regular client. The service has a lot of guys. They could set him up with someone new to fuck every week if he wanted, but he doesn’t want. 

He hit the jackpot the first time out of the gate, he thinks. 

So he sets up the standing appointment, pays in cash (with a credit card back up through the service just in case), and it’s so easy for it to just become part of his routine.

It isn’t too much longer after that before it’s his favorite part of his routine. He certainly doesn’t regret his choice to just stick with Chris. It’s not even about his body or how good he can suck a dick or how flexible he is, though all of those are nice perks. 

It’s the way Chris just… takes him apart sometimes. 

In the bedroom, it’s like Chris just knows. 

And he does - he's a professional, after all. He knows just what to say and do to bring Darren down to where he needs to be. With his hands, with his mouth, with his cock, with his eyes, with his filthy, dirty words that make Darren feel so wanted. 

It's confusing, how it must be an act but it really can't be an act. 

"If you just saw me in a bar, would you ask me out?" Darren asks. "Would you be attracted to me?" 

Chris laughs. He's naked, sprawled out comfortably on Darren's couch. He looks young and happy, red-cheeked with his cock is still a little swollen and flushed but mostly soft against his thigh. His feet are in Darren's lap, heel brushing the swell of Darren's balls. 

Darren wishes he were a photographer outside of himself, just to capture the moment. He has so many pictures of himself but none like this. He doesn't even know what he'd look like. 

Chris answers him. "I'd be terrified of you. You're so out of my league." 

It baffles Darren how Chris could ever think that. He shakes his head vehemently. "No fucking way." 

"Yes fucking way," Chris gently mocks. He sits up and crawls over to Darren, straddling his lap. "You wouldn't give me the time of day." 

"No," Darren protests gently. 

Chris kisses him, lips closing and sucking softly on Darren's bottom one. "This is how the world works. This is how your world works. People are in your periphery every day, looking at you and wanting you and wondering what you'd be like to have. I could be one of those people." 

"But you're not." Darren's hands ghosts up Chris's back, the long length of smooth pale skin. "I see you." 

Chris kisses him again. "You see the part of me it's safe for you to see." 

And there he goes, falling apart again. 

* 

Alcohol is a thing for Darren. It's a problem, and he has good people around him that try and keep it from being too much of a problem but sometimes... 

It could be worse, he tells his mother. It could be heroin. Could be meth. Could be coke. 

It's just booze. Not so bad, right? 

Except that it is. He drinks too much and shit gets bad. He wallows and sulks and smashes things around. He gets angry and no one knows why, not even himself. 

Repression can fuck up your mind so much. 

They make him go to a therapist, but he breaks half the appointments. Mostly it's not even his fault. He's kind of in demand. He gets called out of town; acting gig here, photoshoot there, interviews, press junkets, performances. It's hard to connect with someone who is supposed to fix you when they barely see you enough to know where the cracks in the foundation are. 

It’s ironic that he might have a better chance of getting his shit together if he actually were a has-been, but he’s not. He hovers just on that fine line. His name is out there, his face is in front of people enough. He gets a few popular recurring gigs on tv, does a few more indie movies, bats around some music. 

It’s too much to walk away from but so far from what he really wanted for himself and yeah, that’s what fucks him all up. 

He ends up telling Chris everything he'd tell a shrink, anyway. Chris can't give him pills to set him straight but Darren is pretty sure his blowjobs have healing properties. 

But it's a New York night and Chris is probably tangled up in someone else's bedsheets right now. Darren drinks until his guts are twisted and the world is hazy. Somehow, through some stroke of luck or insanity, he's all alone. Everyone is off with someone else thinking he's with someone else and he's just - 

Alone. 

He sets off down the streets with no real direction in mind. His face is scruffy and there's a beanie pulled over his head and someone else's jacket wrapped around his shoulders. He probably looks homeless, weaving and wobbling all over the sidewalk. No one pauses with recognition in their eyes this time. 

He passed by a bar he used to go to with his friends. There's music pouring out of the door, belted Broadway hits. 

That used to be him. 

He wonders if Chris likes Broadway music. 

* 

He finds a seedy club and a seedy boy and shoves him against a brick wall by the bathrooms. They kiss, dirty and hot, and it's not bad - but it's not great, either. 

Darren's too drunk to keep it up. The kid laughs at him when he shoves a hand into Darren's pants and finds a soft cock. Darren wants to punch him, but the light catches on his profile and the brown hair flopping over his forehead makes him think of Chris and he shoves off, turns and pukes right there in the club. He gets some on the kid's shoes and he doesn't even care. 

He manages to get out before anyone spots him, but his manager finds him passed out cold in front of the toilet the next morning. He has no clue how he even made it back to the hotel room. After the kid and the club it's just a blackout blur. 

His manager is an old buddy and that's probably the only reason he hasn't dumped Darren a long time ago. 

Once he even said it to Darren. He’d looked Darren right in the eye and said, “ _Man, you’re barely worth the money now._ ” 

He probably thought Darren was too out of it to remember, but some things stick. 

But he still helps Darren get undressed, gives him shit for how bad he smells, makes sure he doesn't bust his head open in the shower, and then leaves him in bed. They blame a stomach bug. Interviews for the day get canceled, Darren recovers slowly and then shows his face at some charity gig just to smooth any ruffled feathers. 

It's his life summed up in a weekend. 

*

“She’s pretty,” Chris says, looking at one of the photos in a magazine that’s been on his coffee table for a month. He doesn't even know why they send him copies of those magazines. He doesn't need to look at his own face, and it's not like the interviews even come from him. His publicist spews out what he wants the public to know. 

There are half a dozen starlets on the cover of the magazine, in little insets with drama-baiting headlines, but Darren doesn't have to ask who Chris is commenting on. It's a photo of him, and Darren knows who is on his arm in it. 

"Yeah," Darren agrees, shrugging. "She's pretty." 

“She’s a friend? Or more?” Chris asks, voice lacking judgement. He's just... curious, like the whole fucking world is curious. Like the entire goddamn planet can't just stay the fuck out of his business. But, whatever. It's cool. 

Actually, the ego-driven part of Darren, the part that ends up buying into that whole 'the world revolves around you' thing wonders how Chris didn't already know who she was. As much as he works for the down to earth vibe, it's hard when the world you exist in involves many, many people whose entire livelihoods depend on you. It's power and it's responsibility and Darren's never handled either well. 

“More, I guess,” Darren says. Then he remembers that he doesn't have to lie with Chris, doesn't even have to try to mislead. He laughs sharply and says. "She's a friend. We used to fuck." 

The word rolls off his tongue, sharper and sexier than it should be. It makes Chris smirk a little. “Did you now?” 

“A while back. Now she’s just - there.” Darren shrugs. "She's cool. We're good - we're just not..." 

"Because you're gay," Chris says. Then he looks surprised at himself. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't-" 

"No, it's cool. I don't even know what I am." Darren waves a hand around. "But whatever it is, it's not gonna end up with me getting married and making the babies with her." 

Chris closes the magazine and then puts it under a couple others. Darren appreciates the gesture. He holds an arm out and Chris slides in next to him, kissing his cheek. "I get it. You don't have to explain." 

And - yeah. Yeah, Chris would be the one that gets it.

* 

The next time Chris comes over, he has a small bag in his hand. He kisses Darren hello and puts the bag down and he doesn't mention it, so Darren doesn't mention it just like they never mention the envelopes of cash Darren leaves on the coffee table every time Chris comes over. 

Chris doesn't even count them anymore. Darren would be lying if he said it didn't make him feel a little happy. Chris is comfortable enough in Darren's home to wake up and make himself toast and tea before he leaves, though Darren sleeps through it all. 

When he does head downstairs, feeling awake and grounded at just before noon, he pauses by his coffee table and laughs. The magazines are all gone - in their place are graphic novels and a couple of coffee table books on esoteric subjects, like the history of animation and the world's strangest musical instruments. 

* 

“What was it that made you call me?” Chris asks. They’re in bed together, close but not touching. 

Darren shrugs. “I just like… I mean…” 

“Honest,” Chris says, smiling. “I want an honest answer.” 

“I liked the idea of how easy it would be. Like - no obligation. You’re here for me, to make me happy, to do what I want. Takes the pressure off. I don’t have to worry that you’re only using me to say you fucked a celebrity or you’re gonna come back in a months and try to sell your story to a tabloid.” 

“You probably pay me more than a tabloid would anyway,” Chris says, impish smile on his face. 

Darren laughs. “Yeah.” 

“But that all makes sense,” Chris says. “Anything else? Any other reasons?”

“Because…” Darren takes a breath. This hits a nerve rubbed a little more raw. “Because even if things didn’t, you know, work? You wouldn’t be able to laugh or mock me. It felt like nothing was on the line.” 

“You have problems with that?” Chris actually sounds surprised. It’s never been an issue Darren’s had with him. 

Darren shrugs. “Stress. Exhaustion. Sometimes, yeah. Used to, anyway.” 

Chris reaches out and rubs Darren’s shoulders. Darren leans into him, sagging with relief at the touch. He feels Chris’s breath in his ear when Chris says, “Maybe the people you were with just stressed you out more.” 

 

“You don’t,” Darren says, dropping his head back. “You make me feel better.” 

“I’m glad,” Chris whispers, and he wraps his arms around Darren’s chest, hugging him sideways. 

Darren squirms over until he’s on top of Chris and rests his cheek on Chris’s shoulder. 

*

Chris arrives on Darren's doorstep one evening, overnight bag on his arm. He'd gotten the request via the email contact form on the website, even though Darren has his phone number by now.

It hadn't taken much to reassign his other client. He has the weekend free and a beautiful boy to spend it with. He'd do this without the money, and that's the only shitty part about it. 

He greets Darren with a kiss and a question. "Do I get to know where we're going?" 

He'd be lying if he said this wasn't one of the fun parts of the job. Who doesn't like being whisked away for a mystery adventure? He hadn't even been told what kind of clothes to bring, so he's got a little of everything in his bag and if he needs something he didn't pack for well, he'll just bill it. 

"I told you I knew a great Thai place," Darren says. He has a backpack over his shoulder and as if on cue, a sleek black Lexus pulls around. "It's in Chicago." 

Chris laughs. "Chicago? What's there, besides legendary Thai?'

Once upon a time, he had friends there. Chicago was his safe haven, his place to escape. But years and miles and texts gone unanswered eroded the connections and now he's not sure if a single person in that town would still call him a friend. Fuck, half of them moved to LA at one point or another and didn't even give him a heads up. 

He'll probably never stop wondering if he couldn't have done more for them. He didn't mean to, but in retrospect he can understand how it might have felt like he was turning his back. He just... forgot. He got wrapped up in glitz and glam and Hollywood smoke and everything else fell by the wayside until one day he woke up and looked around and realized all the people he felt like really knew him thought he was a stranger. 

Except now: Chris. And maybe that's why, maybe he wants to take someone that knows him back to a place that he feels like he was known well in. 

"It's a big city." Darren shrugs. "I'm sure there's a lot there." 

Chris links his arm through Darren's. "Well, then. Let's see what kind of trouble we can get into." 

* 

It would be nice to be sexy and glamorous all the time, but after TSA and half an hour in the VIP lounge and a four hour flight to O'Hare, all Chris wants is a shower and a nap. It's half past midnight and planes always make him sleepy. He's embarrassed to admit he nodded off once or twice, head against Darren's chest. 

Luckily, Darren didn't seem to mind all that much. 

"I've never been to Chicago before," Chris murmurs, voice sleepy as they approach the hotel in a car Darren had waiting on them. 

"Oh yeah?" Darren smiles. "Gotta try the pizza before we leave." 

Chris yawns and rubs his cheek against Darren's shoulder. "I am always up for pizza." 

It's such a quiet, cozy moment with the sounds of the city all around them. 

* 

Darren leaves Chris sleeping in their bed and steps out onto the balcony. 

He stares down at a name lit up on the screen of his phone, and his fingers shake a little when he taps against it. 

Joe's an old buddy, one of Darren's best friends in college. He's one of the ones that still texts Darren once in a while, doesn't seem to hold a grudge. 

He answers on the third ring. "Dare, man!" 

Darren smiles instantly, sinking forward against the railing. "Joe, dude, how's it going?" 

"Not bad, not bad." Joe laughs again. "Wow, trippy to hear from you. Everything okay?" 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just - ended up in Chicago for the weekend, you know, work stuff. Thought I'd see if you were free to grab dinner or something before I head out?" 

"Oh..." There's an awkward pause. "I moved, man. Like, a year ago? Met this girl and she was only in town finishing school, so when she graduated - we're engaged, you know? So I headed back with her-" 

Joe keeps going, keeps explaining, but Darren doesn't hear any of it. His stomach rolls uncomfortably. He remembers college parties, climbing onto the roof and getting high, remembers that one time they went skinny dipping. He remembers college graduation and all the plans they made and how much they all meant. 

Joe's getting married, and Darren didn't even know. 

"... sorry, bro. But if you're ever around Jersey, hit me up." Joe's voice is cautious, apologetic. "We can catch up." 

"Yeah, of course, totally," Darren promises. "We'll catch up some time." 

He hangs up the phone and turns around, walking back into the hotel room. Chris is still asleep on the bed, on his stomach with one hand reaching out. He looks beautiful in the moonlight. 

Darren tosses his phone onto a chair and joins him in bed. 

*

Chris isn't lying when he tells Darren he's never been to Chicago before. 

He's not sure what he really expected; that there would be some point to it, maybe. That there was someone Darren wants to make jealous or show him off to, some event he didn't want to show up alone to. 

Though, from what Chris understands, Darren already has someone to take along when he needs to. But Chris isn't questioning things. That's not what they pay him the big money to do. 

There are no events, though. There are no other people. 

There's just the two of them and a city that Darren regards like an old lover, someone that he shyly comes back to even after being hurt by. 

* 

Darren makes good on his word. They have pizza, messy and delicious. Chris regrets the tightness of his jeans once they finish but he's comfortable enough with Darren to indulge. Chris enjoying himself seems important to Darren, and that's why Chris doesn't hesitate to brighten his expression and say, "Ooh, let's see a show." 

Chicago's good for that, for theater and performances. They find a little indie venue and the play is fucked up and hilarious and Chris loves that he and Darren laugh at all the same jokes. He loves that they get each other like this, because so many people just - don't. 

As they exit the theater he grabs Darren's hands. "That was amazing." 

"Glad you liked it," Darren says, ducking his head a little bit shyly. It's an act; there's nothing shy about Darren. But even the persona that he's putting on to Chris signifies something. 

Chris likes it. Chris likes all of it, this whole weekend, a startling amount. 

"What next?" He asks. 

He's not ready for the night to end. 

Darren muses over the question and then smiles. "Ice cream?" 

"Yay!" Chris bounces on his heels. It's a youthful move, but that's how he feels right now. "Ice cream!" 

Darren laughs - at him, maybe, but Chris doesn't care. They get a double scoop each and trade back and forth as they walk back to the hotel. 

* 

Darren never asks Chris when he needs to be back, and Chris never gives him any kind of time limit. Even if he had, Darren would have tried to push it. He's always been that kind, that guy, never knowing when to quit. It's no wonder that this life has fucked him up; he needs people that'll say no, he needs them to do it for his own good sometimes. 

But not right now. Right now this feels like cleansing all by itself somehow. Los Angeles clings to his skin like grime but a new place and a lack of expectations upon him lets him feel just a little bit like himself again. 

He takes them to a gay bar on Saturday night. He's been to plenty, but always by himself, always a secret shame. He's fucked against filthy walls and he's given more blowjobs than he can count in back rooms while security turns their heads. 

It'll definitely blow up in his face one day. Darren almost can't wait. 

But this time it's legit. This time he walks in the front door with Chris on his arm. It's obvious Chris has a better experience with these kinds of places than Darren, given the way he lets Darren buy him a drink and then he actually pulls Darren onto the dance floor and just... 

Lets loose. 

It's a sight to behold. 

"What?" Chris asks, head tilted with a challenge. His arms are draped over Darren's shoulders and their hips are grinding. 

Darren laughs and shrugs. "Nothing, just. This is a new side of you." 

Chris smiles and nips at Darren's bottom lip. "I would say that I can stop, but I think you like it." 

He's right. Darren does. Chris is always... contained, somehow. He exudes a sense of being in control of himself and a situation, and he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who enjoys anyone else having the reigns. During sex, sure, he'll go with whatever; but sex is brief and it never carries once the sweat is dried. 

He wouldn't have known until just now but he's not sure he's ever seen Chris really let his guard down. He wraps his arms a little tighter around Chris and says, "I do," Darren says. "I like it a lot." 

*

Chris gets drunk. 

He doesn't mean to. It's just... he doesn't go out a lot. Not like this, not alone with someone he enjoys being with. Just out to a club, out dancing? It's too easy to forget Darren is a client. It's too easy to accept the drinks Darren gives him, just because of how much it makes Darren smile every time he does. 

The world is tilting on its axis a little when they break free of the throbbing strobe lit club and into the fresh night air. He leans on Darren a little more than he should. 

"You seem more sober than I am," Chris says, playful accusation in his voice. 

Darren shrugs one shoulder. "Yeah, I only had one drink." 

"Mm," Chris hums. "You know you don't have to get me wasted to take advantage of me, right?" 

Darren's arm goes around Chris's waist, fingers teasing under the hem of his shirt. "What if I don't want to take advantage of you?" 

Chris sighs. Darren's shoulder is just right there, so perfect for him to lean against... perfect for him to rest his head just so. "What else would you want me for?" He scoffs. 

"Chris." Darren's arm tightens. He stops walking and spins around in front of Chris, right there on the sidewalk. "What wouldn't I want you for?" 

"Oh." There's pink in Chris's cheeks. 

"Everything." Darren feels the heat of the blush when he cups Chris's face. He leans in and kisses Chris, close-lipped and firm. "I want you for everything." 

Chris throws his arms around Darren and hugs him tight. 

“You are exactly what I’d want,” Chris says, sighing. That tiny voice in the back of his mind is wary of how loose his tongue is but he doesn’t stop the words. “If I had a boyfriend.” 

“Why don’t you?” Darren asks. 

Chris shrugs. “I don’t know. No one’s ever been interested in me?” 

Darren is shocked. “Are you telling me you’ve never had a boyfriend?” 

There’s a hint of pink to Chris now that may not be just from the alcohol. “Is that so hard to believe?” 

“Oh my god, yes,” Darren says, laughing. “Yes, it is. And no wonder you think I’d be a good one. You have nothing to compare to. Trust me, you can do better than me.” 

“Darren.” Chris pouts. “I meant that.” 

“Yeah?” Darren sounds wistful. He’d like to think this isn’t just Chris being drunk, Chris being excited for traveling and the city and the fun they’ve had tonight. 

But Darren knows how good he is at putting on a show for people, making them like him in the moment. The thing is, once he stops being able to take them awesome places and show them awesome things, they don’t really come around anymore. 

If Chris weren’t getting money from this, he wouldn’t be here. 

But he is and Darren isn’t selfish enough not to still enjoy what he does get. 

* 

"Oh god," Chris whines, trying to curl in on himself. "Five more minutes." 

Darren laughs, pressing kisses to his shoulder. "You are not in elementary school and I am not your mother." 

"Good," Chris says. "That would be jarring." 

He rolls over and sprawls out, looking delicious to Darren's greedy eyes. "Breakfast?" Darren asks, waving the room service menu at him. 

Chris yanks it out of his grasp. "I am starving." 

"Me, too. That's why I woke you up." Darren rests his head on Chris's shoulder, happy to cuddle in while Chris decides what he wants to eat. 

"I suppose I can forgive that..." Chris says absently, making a satisfied sound. "Just get me the breakfast platter. Bacon, not sausage. And cheese on the eggs." 

Darren kisses a nipple and then rolls off of Chris. He gets the same for himself. He doesn't really give a fuck what he eats right now... he just doesn't want to leave this room to go get it. 

When he hangs up the phone, Chris is looking at him. "What?" He asks. 

Chris hesitates, then says. "Last night. Was I - did I... overstep?" 

Darren is surprised. "I figured I should be asking you that." 

Chris smiles a little. "You kissed me in the middle of the street at one in the morning." 

"Well, it was the sidewalk, not the street, but yeah." Darren crawls back over to him, sitting crosslegged. His knee touches Chris's shoulder. "I'm never sure what the rules are." 

Chris rolls onto his side and rests his head on Darren's leg. After a moment, he feels fingers carding through his hair. He has a faint headache still, and it feels nice. All of it - the soft pattern of Darren's breathing, the gentle touch, even the tickle of the hair on Darren's leg against his cheek. "With you, I'm never all that sure." 

"That a good thing or a bad thing?" Darren asks. 

Chris rubs his cheek back and forth. "Not sure of that either." 

* 

It's another black tie affair kind of night and Darren's been warned by his agent and his manager and his mom and his agent a second time and even his stylist: behave. There are people here to impress. He wants a third album at some point. He wants future jobs. He wants to keep those gossip rags listing him under the 'swoon over' columns. 

The thing is, he's good at _people_ most of the time. He swept onto the scene with boundless enthusiasm and cheer and then coasted on charisma for a while. And he's still good; he can make a girl swoon and a guy blush. People want to sleep with him, parent him, and be his best friend all in one. 

As long as he stays sober. And that - that's the struggle now. 

That's what they all warn him about. 

The girl on his arm keeps an eye on his drink but she doesn't give him shit about it and he loves her for that. They do their own thing, mostly. Smile for some pictures, put an arm around her if fans are looking, part ways once they're inside. She pulls it off better than he does lately and he admires the hell out of her for it. She's got bigger balls than half the guys in Hollywood and she's taking it by storm from the inside out. He knows their little deal benefits her as much as him but he's not sorry for it. She's earning it more than anyone thinks. 

The more he sinks, the more his (not his) girl shines. She's got more twitter fans than he does at this point, but he doesn't ever look at that fucking thing. 

"What are you smiling at?" She looks over at him curiously. 

He shrugs and knocks back the rest of his whiskey. "Just thinking." 

She regards him curiously then seems to decide it's better off not to pursue. "Okay, honey. Whatever you say." 

A waitress walks by and he asks for a new drink. 

* 

He really doesn't remember how the event goes, and that's probably not a good thing. More and more they have to cover his ass, pull strings and plant stories. 

He finds himself in one of the less glamorous areas of Hollywood, eyeing the young guys along the street. 

A couple whistle at him but... they're not his type. 

He knows what his type is. He smiles as his footsteps stagger a little, weaving back and forth. He still has a glass of whiskey in his hand, swiped from the party before he cut out completely. There'd been a car for him somewhere but he hadn't had the patience to call for it, just - set out on foot. 

He'll get reamed for it in the morning, but that's Darren-of-the-morning's problem to deal with. Darren of right now just has to worry about - well, nothing, actually. That's the nice thing about drinking. He can't piece together enough cohesive thoughts for any kind of anxiety, just the way he wants it. 

There is a tiny part of him that wants to not feel like this, though, still. His mind isn't quite the blank he wants it to be because that little voice just yearns for the other place that makes him happy now: curled up in bed around Chris. 

Chris is probably with someone else right now. He's probably kissing them and smiling at them the exact same way he smiles at Darren. 

As much as Darren wants to think otherwise, his bitter drunk self admits the truth that soberly he avoids: he's fucking a hooker. He's paying someone for the affection he can't find anywhere else, and he's become too attached, too fast. 

This is what he does with everything. With music, with his career, with relationships. He jumps in full steam ahead without pausing to think if the situation is right for him. He steers his life around feelings and not facts and doesn't realize the mistake he's made until he's crashing. 

He thought it hurt when they wrote him off that second show he was on - for no reason of his own besides he was too popular and his costars resented it. He thought it hurt when his second album tanked, because he made the music the studio wanted not the songs he wanted. He thought it hurt when he wrote that script of his own and the studios weren't interested. 

Yeah, he's done ok since then, but he knows those early fuck ups might have made the difference in his musical career and maybe got him that elusive big movie role he thought he was destined for. 

He’s met a lot of awesome people, learned a lot about what being an actor is and what it isn’t. But would he do it differently if he could do it over? Maybe. 

Or maybe not. 

* 

Darren finds a guy. 

Darren can always find a guy if he looks hard enough. They're everywhere, sexy and willing. Sometimes starfuckers, sometimes totally oblivious guys who just like what they see. That's the most fun to Darren - when they don't know him from the hobo down the street. They just want some dick. Handjobs and blowjobs, that's pretty much all Darren's offering in a situation like this, but it's enough. 

He gets that it could end up being shitty for his career. All it would take is one person with a camera phone, one guy who realizes he can make some cash with TMZ. Even if Darren’s wavering in the public eye, he was someone a few years ago and that’s still worth something. 

But it never seems that bad of a decision at the time. When he just wants to get off and he’s drunk or at least mostly there and he finds someone willing, it feels pretty good. 

It’s just sex. Sometimes it’s good sex. Sometimes it’s a few rounds of good sex. Sometimes the guy ends up being surprisingly cool, sometimes they don’t even talk enough for Darren to know one way or the other what the guy is like. Sometimes he has to get a little pushy with someone who wants to bite or fuck bare or do other things Darren isn’t dumb enough to get into. Sometimes he has to turn down things, because he’s made some fucked up decisions in the past but losing a castmate made him realize that he needed to step back from the drugs. He’s never tempted by the offers to shoot up or snort a line. 

Sometimes it’s Darren that’s the asshole the other guy has to tell to back off. It’s usually after sex, if Darren’s drunk enough he can pretend that the person he’s sharing sweat and laying in jizz with is someone he knows enough to want to cuddle. 

This time it’s one of those just sex times. He’s distracted when he gets off, so it isn’t even that satisfying. In the morning he won’t be able to remember what he was even thinking of when he came, just that the itch wasn’t totally scratched. 

He sleeps it off in a trashy apartment and wakes up at half past four in the morning. His pricey as fuck suit smells a little bit like puke and come and his head is pounding. He can't remember what the guy looks like, and he's pretty sure he broke something on his way in, so he drops a few twenties on the table on his way out. 

*

There comes a point where they stop acknowledging what Chris does for a living or that this is a job, and that's when Chris knows they're both in trouble. 

Darren still leaves him money and Chris still spends his other nights fucking and sucking other men but it's so easy to just - not talk about it. To get swept up into a sense of belonging and acceptance that they find in each other. 

It'll have to come to a head eventually - and it does. 

He feels off all night, distant while they share Indian food but intensely engaged in bed. Afterward, he dresses. 

Darren makes his usual whines of protest. By now, Chris knows to bring clothes. He can't remember the last time he came and didn't stay the entire night. 

Darren makes breakfast sometimes, if he doesn't have to head straight to set. Chris has never had someone make breakfast for him after they've slept together before. It sends warm shivers through him in the most pleasant way. 

But not tonight. "I have to go," Chris says quietly. "Another client wants me to go away with him. I have to be at the airport at seven in the morning." 

Darren recoils as if he's been struck. "Oh." 

There's a pressure settled in Chris's chest that changes to sudden panic, words of apology and sentiment trying to claw their way out of his heart. "Next week?" He asks, voice breaking ever so slightly. 

Darren doesn't call him on it. He just nods, sad and defeated. "Yeah." 

There's no kiss at the door. Darren doesn't even walk him out, just turns over in bed. 

Chris can't remember the last time he felt so much like breaking down into tears. 

* 

The guy gets Chris his own hotel room. It's far from the suite that the man himself is staying in, but Chris has a stocked mini bar and room service. 

He's only called up to the suite a few times. He spends a Friday watching a marathon of a bad reality show and finally gives in to the burning urge inside of him. 

The phone rings three times, and then: "Chris?" 

"Hey," Chris says, trying to sound casual. "You busy?" 

"Just hanging out with my buddy Jack." Darren's voice has a rough, slurred quality to it. 

"I'm guessing Jack spends his free time in bottles?" 

Darren snorts with laughter. "Just like me, if you listen to the tabloids." 

"I try not to," Chris says. 

"Whatever, everyone looks at those headlines. Standing in the fucking Rite Aid while you're buying hot pockets and condoms." 

"Is that autobiographical?" 

"... you can't prove a thing." Darren says. "So what about you? Not... busy?" 

"Nope." Chris pops the p a little. "My services are not needed at the moment." 

"Yeah, they are." Darren says, disgruntled. "Just not by whatever asshole you're with now." 

Chris smiles a little. "I'd rather be with you." 

"Yeah?" Darren is hesitant but hopeful. "For real?"

"Darren..." Chris sighs. "Yes. Of course. You're - you're the best. You know that." 

"No, I don't," Darren says quietly. 

"Well, it's true." And also goes against everything Chris has learned or been taught about his profession. "Being with you is just..." 

"So are you telling me you fake it with other people?" Darren teases. "And not with me?" 

"You can have an orgasm without still having a good time," Chris admits. "With most people I just close my eyes and think of other situations." 

"Yeah?" Darren's voice gets huskier. "But you don't do that with me?" 

"God, no." Chris sighs, his eyes shutting. "No need to. You do the job... more than well."

Darren chuckles darkly. "You ever think of me when you're with someone else?" 

Oh, Chris is so fucked. He squirms lower on his bed and starts to palm his dick. "Yeah, I do." 

"Yeah? What do you think about?" There's a rustling sound. 

"The way you sound when I'm fucking you. You make these noises - whining and panting and grunting. It's so hot." Chris tugs his dick out from his pajama pants. "Think I can make you make them over the phone?" 

"I don't know," Darren says. "Maybe I should play hard to get for once." 

"Hard to get." Chris snorts. "Not something I've ever been called." 

"Fucking lie," Darren says. "You are the hardest to get. Keep, at least." 

Skid to a hard stop. Switch tracks while the smoke is still rising from the brake. 

"Get your lube." 

Chris can practically see Darren scrambling to obey. He pretends he can at least, imagining the chubby curve of Darren's ass and the way his dick would bounce as he leaned over. Chris knows where the lube is kept. He knows what else Darren has in his drawer. "And the sleeve toy."

"Shit, really?" Darren pants. They don't often use the toys, because Darren has never seemed inclined towards it when he has Chris there, and it's Chris's job to keep in tune with what Darren wants. It's practically on his business card: know the client's wet dreams better than the client does. 

But this, right now? This isn't on the clock, and Chris has gotten off too many times imagining Darren desperate and horny and fucking it. 

"You have it?" Chris asks. 

"Yeah. Just let me - gotta get some lube into it." There's a wet squelching sound of rubber being slicked up. "Do you... how..." 

"How do you use it normally?" Chris asks. 

"Just kind of... jerk off with it," Darren answers. 

"Then we're going to do something different," Chris says. His own cock is a heavy warm weight in his hand and he squeezes but doesn't stroke yet. "Get two pillows. Put it between them, then straddle it." 

"Fuck..." Darren lets out a shuddery breath. "Okay." 

"Now fuck it." The words come out crisp and he can hear the sound of Darren's bed rocking back and forth. "Pretend it's me. Pretend it's my ass you're shoving that dick into." 

"Oh god." Darren sounds wrecked already. "You’re fucking filthy..." 

"No, you." Chris's hand moves on himself now, blurring up and down in jerky but satisfying strokes. "You're the filthy one. You'd do anything I told you to, wouldn't you?" 

"Uh huh," Darren pants. "Anything. What do you want?" 

Chris has to stop, suddenly too close too fast. It's a sharp throbbing, not all that pleasant, and he draws himself back. He squeezes his eyes shut and pictures Darren with his face mashed into the mattress, body hunched around the pillows and the toy, sweaty and red-faced and as desperate as he sounds. 

In a pained voice Chris says, "Everything. I'd do everything to you." 

_And never let you go._

He knows the sound Darren makes when he comes, and it's just as hot over the phone as it is in person. Chris lets himself stop holding back and joins him in a few strokes more, slumping back against the hotel bed. 

"Fuck." Darren laughs, breathless. "That was... damn." 

Chris smiles a little, reaching for a few tissues to wipe his hand and stomach off. "Yeah. Damn." 

It's a little painful to realize it's the first time he's done anything with anyone sexual in a long time without being paid for it. "Why are you so far away now?" He says on a wistful sigh. 

There's silence from Darren's end. "Shit, you can't say stuff like that. Makes me want to do stupid stuff." 

"Like what?" Chris rolls over in the bed, sleepy in his post-orgasm warmth. 

"Like get in a car. Drive to wherever the fuck you are." 

"Toronto," Chris says. "It's just as boring as it sounds." 

"I'm sure Toronto has vast cultural offerings," Darren says. "I spent a couple days there." 

"Sampling the vast cultural offerings?" 

"Smoking pot and fighting with my - with... someone." 

Chris doesn't ask who. He doesn't need suspicions confirmed, or to foster the feeling of discomfort he gets when he thinks of Darren with... someone. "That's one way to do it." 

"Yeah. I think if I'd had you there, I could have found a different way, though." 

"What, no pot? Or no fighting?" 

"Now there's an idea..." Darren muses. "You ever get high?" 

"Nope." Chris answers him. "I've never done any kind of illegal substance. Does that surprise you?"

"No," Darren says. "Even though it's bullshit that pot is illegal anywhere." 

"Okay, hippie." Chris laughs. 

"Well, I am from San Francisco." 

"Wow, are you really?"

"Yeah, you didn't know that?" 

"No," Chris says. "I'm from Clovis. Near Fresno?" 

"Oh yeah. Wow, you must have gotten out young." 

"You don't know how old I am, do you?" 

"I mean, the site says 23." 

"It's true. I really am 23. My real name is Chris, too," he teases. "Did you ever doubt that?" 

"I wondered," Darren admits. "But I had someone check you out." 

Chris laughs. "Of course you did." 

"Sorry." Darren sounds sheepish at least. "I didn't want to wake up the next morning with my nudes posted online." 

"Nudes on the internet? That's your breaking point?" 

"Well, like, ones I didn't take myself. If anyone's seeing my dong on twitter I want to make sure I've cleaned up a little. Or like, artfully draped it." 

Chris has to smother his laugh into the pillow. "Oh, god. I miss you." 

He doesn't mean to say it, but he doesn't try to take it back. 

"I miss you too," Darren answers softly. "Can you come by when you get home?" 

"I don't know when that'll be exactly," Chris warns him. 

"Doesn't matter. Just come by. I could even have a car for you at the airport?" 

Something in Chris's chest jumps. "You mean like... as soon as I get home." 

"Yeah, I do," Darren says. "Will you?" 

It's dumb, it's so dumb. But Chris rolls over onto his back and smiles up at the ceiling. "Yeah. I will." 

*

"What's this?" Chris asks, nudging his fingers against the top of a gift bag. 

"It's for you," Darren says, grinning like an idiot. "It's a present. That's cool, right? I'm like - allowed?" 

Chris shrugs. "You're allowed." He's been given expensive watches, garish jewelry he'd never wear, bottles of wine that cost what his dad makes in a month. Yeah, gifts are definitely a thing. 

"Well, go ahead then." Darren is proud of himself, sitting on the arm of the couch and bouncing one knee up and down. "Open it."

They're just not a thing Darren has done until now. For some reason, Chris is almost disappointed. 

At least until he opens the bag. A delighted, disbelieving laugh escapes him. "Are you serious?" 

Darren's grin just grows. 

Chris grabs the blu-ray set with both hands. "The entire run of the original Ninja Turtles? Oh my god please say we are watching this right now." 

"Already ordered the pizza," Darren says, then reaches around behind the couch to pull out another bag. "Got a case of Diet Coke, a case of beer, two bags of Doritos, those sour cream and cheddar crack chips, Twizzlers, big bag of M&Ms..." 

"I hope you also plan on paying for a personal trainer for me after this," Chris says, though he's already ripping the cellophane off the dvd set. 

Darren can't even admit how nervous he was that Chris would think the blu-ray thing was dumb. He'd seen it online while blowing money on more shit he didn't need and he'd thought about Chris talking about his favorite tv shows and his own childhood watching this kind of stuff with his friends and his brother, and he'd realized how much he missed having someone to do that with. 

Maybe it's that the absence of his college friends is bothering him more and more lately, or maybe it's that he's realizing none of his Hollywood friends are worth all that much more than getting high and talking shit about other Hollywood types. 

And then he'd thought of Chris, who fits in no category at all in Darren's life except the one that he's made for himself, and he'd ordered it without letting himself second guess and... 

And it was a good decision. It's exactly what Darren wanted, the companionship and the stupid laughing until his sides hurt and the friendship. 

They stay up until four am laughing and drinking beer and eating half the junk food Darren has in the house. It's the closest thing to a truly good night Darren's had in a long time. 

Chris falls asleep with his head on Darren's shoulder and Darren even finds it in him to ignore the squeezing feeling around his heart at how good this is.

*

In the morning, Chris wakes him up. "I have to go, honey." 

Darren protests groggily. "Stay a few more hours? 's fucking early." 

Chris laughs and pokes him in the side. "It's one pm, lazy ass." 

"Early," Darren scowls. He tugs at Chris's arm. "Stay." 

Chris kisses his forehead and, fuck it, Darren has to smile. "I can't. I have to go. I'm driving up to my parents place for the weekend." 

"Oh." Darren's still grumpy but he has no argument for that. "Fine." 

"I'll call you," Chris promises, and this time he kisses Darren's mouth. Darren doesn't kiss back and Chris just goes in again, pursing his lips around Darren's bottom one until Darren sighs noisily and gives him a smacking kiss back. Chris hums in satisfaction and pushes to his feet, already showered and dressed. 

It takes another minute for Darren to remember something. He rolls out of bed and staggers to his feet, grabbing his wallet with that perpetual sense of disappointment that he tries to pretend he doesn't feel. 

He catches Chris just as Chris is about to shut the door behind him. "Hey!" He calls out, jogging forward. 

Chris peers back around the door. "Oh, did you decide I deserve a real kiss goodbye?" He teases. 

Darren tries to laugh, but it's hard with the bills tucked between his fingers. "You forgot the-" He waves the cash a little. 

Chris looks at it thoughtfully, and then shakes his head. "I didn't do anything." 

"Yeah, you did," Darren answers, confused. "I mean, you hung out with me. All night. I'm paying you for your time." 

Chris looks at him, straight at him and maybe a little bit through him. Darren doesn't really pretend lately that he's happy with talking about their arrangement in stark terms. Denial is his old friend, his best buddy. He resents anything that drags him out of it. 

"You don't pay for my friendship," Chris says, and gives Darren a strange, soft smile before he shuts the door behind him, leaving Darren standing there holding the money. 

* 

Chris's heart is racing as he steps outside. 

He should have taken the money. That's what keeps this uncomplicated: reminders that he's doing a job. 

Except it isn't really uncomplicated at all, is it? It hasn't been for a while. 

*

Darren calls him the next day and cancels their standing date. 

Their standing _appointment_. 

He does it through the service, so it’s all above board. Chris gets the call a couple hours before he’d have headed over. 

Darren is free to break appointments for any reason. He has no responsibility to tell Chris personally if he’s going to break one of them. Chris is his to be summoned or dismissed at Darren’s leisure. He pays very well for that privilege. 

Darren is doing exactly what he’s obligated to, as per the terms of their arrangement. 

Chris knows that. 

He doesn’t want to think about why he feels so disappointed anyway. 

*

"It's late," his mother says, walking into the room. 

He jumps. He hadn't heard her. She's so quiet when she wants to be, always able to sneak up on him as a kid. 

But loud when she wants to be, too. Her laugh can fill a room. 

He hasn't heard her laugh in a while. He hasn't been around her enough to. 

He looks up at her with wet eyes. "Mama." He's embarrassed by the way his voice cracks. "Can I tell you something?" 

"Oh, baby boy." She sits down beside him and wraps her arms around him. She's so tiny but he clings tight, pressing his face against her shoulder. He doesn't recognize the scent of her shampoo or remnants of perfume but somehow she still smells like home to him. "You can tell me anything." 

He takes a breath and the words work their way out. "I think I'm gay." 

Her hand still slightly and she says, "Is that all?" 

"Isn't that enough?" Darren asks. 

"No, it's a lot, for you, I understand." She pats his cheek, thumb pressing into the flesh. "But it's not, you know that? Down where it really matters, that doesn't change a thing. I love you, baby." 

He closes his eyes and lets her pet his hair and rub his back. He hasn't done this in a long time either, just hugged his mom for no reason at all besides the fact that she makes him feel better. "Thanks," he whispers. "I love you, too." 

A few minutes pass and then she says, "Is there a young man I should know about?" 

Darren smiles. "Yeah. I think maybe so. You'd like him." 

"If he's making you happy, I already do." She stands up. "I'll go make us some tea - nah, don't make that face, you're getting tea - and you get ready to tell me all about him." 

They stay up until two that morning. Darren doesn't tell her everything about Chris, but it's undeniably a relief to let some of it out. 

When she finally begs off, he makes his way up to the guest room. It used to be his bedroom those last few years he lived in San Francisco, but it's long since been redone into something less music-obsessed pop culture nerd and more palatable to the general public. It's still strange to him to lay down and see the familiar shapes with unfamiliar decorations. 

He can't sleep. 

If he were home, he'd have a drink, a few drinks. Wash a sleeping pill down with them. But his mother has made it clear how she feels about him drinking and he won't do that to her in her own home. Turns out he does still have a few rules left he's afraid to break. 

He tosses and turns until just past three and then picks up his phone and texts Chris to ask if he's up. 

A minute passes and his phone rings. He tries to answer it as quickly as he can to keep from waking his parents up, even though they're down the hall and probably can't even hear. "Hey," he whispers once the call is connected. 

"Darren?" Chris sounds sleepy. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Darren says. "I woke you up, didn't I?" 

"It's three in the morning. So... yeah." 

"Sorry. Shit. Sorry." Darren sighs. Yeah, he didn't think that one through. "I can let you go." 

"Are you okay?" Chris asks again. "You called me at three in the morning, after canceling on me this morning." 

"I know." Darren sighs. "Sorry. I just... I came to visit my parents. I needed to be here. In San Francisco. That's where I am." 

"Your parents? Are-" 

"Everyone's fine," Darren says. "I'm not trying to be a confusing asshole on purpose. I just needed to get away from Los Angeles and... all that shit." 

There's silence on Chris's end. Darren actually wonders if maybe that bothers Chris. He doesn't like the thought of it. 

Maybe that's why he blurts out, "I came out to my mom." 

"Wow, Darren. That is - that's amazing. I'm really proud of you." 

"Why?" Suddenly, Darren's crying for the second time that night. "I'm almost fucking thirty years old and it took me this long, why would anyone be proud of that?" 

"Stop that," Chris says sternly. "Stop. It doesn't matter how old you are or how long it took you. What matters is that you're being honest with someone that's important to you. What did your mom say?" 

"That she loves me." Darren tries to swallow another rough sob back. He leaves out the rest; the hours spent talking about the boy he's in love with. "She made me tea." 

"Good," Chris says. "You should drink more tea. It's good for you." 

Darren laughs shakily. "Says the guy who has more diet coke than blood in his body." 

"That's entirely different." Chris laughs. 

"Because it's you?" 

"Because it's me. I'm glad you see how this works," Chris says. "How long are you staying there for?" 

"A couple days, maybe?" Darren guesses. "I have to be back in LA by Tuesday for a meeting." It's only Saturday. That sounds like a long time, but right now Darren just wants to be here. It feels safer. 

"Do you want me to come over then?" Chris asks. 

“Yeah,” Darren says. “Please?” 

“You don’t have to say please,” Chris says. 

“Well. My mom taught me to be polite.” Darren is fading fast. He can feel the crash as it happens, his head sinking back into the pillow. “I’m gonna pass out. Soon.” 

“I’ll stay on the phone until you do,” Chris reassures him. 

It’s the last thing Darren remembers hearing before sleep. 

*

Darren's channel surfing in bed, naked and sprawled out and relaxed when Chris comes back from a post-coital clean up shower. "You staying?" He asks Chris. 

Chris nods and climbs back onto the bed, settling with his head on Darren's shoulder and an arm draped over Darren's stomach. "If you want me to." 

Darren turns and kisses Chris on the temple. "Yeah, I want to." 

They lapse into silence. Chris is sleepy, working more morning appointments to balance out reserving half his nights for Darren now. He rubs his hand absently over the cute little pudge of Darren's stomach, his fingers jostling when Darren laughs out loud. "Oh, fuck, man. This night." 

Chris looks at the tv. It's some sort of best/worst dressed clip show, and he recognizes the event from barely a month before. "Oh yeah?" 

As if on cue, a picture of Darren and his 'lady friend' (as the announcers put it) flashes on screen. "Good thing they got me before the after-party." 

"Oh?" Chris asks. "What happened at the afterparty?" 

Darren shrugs. 

Chris sits up and looks at him, curiosity piqued now. He pouts. "Tell me?"

"I just... cut a little too loose." Darren shrugs. 

"What does that mean?" Chris shouldn't pry, but he does anyway. 

"Got wasted. Ditched my date. Ended up outside of some shitty gay bar and went home with someone I don't even fucking remember." Darren says it with forced nonchalance but it still cuts right through Chris. 

"Oh," he says. He doesn't know why it bothers him so much. It's not like he doesn't fuck other people regularly. He just... he'd never stopped to consider maybe Darren was, too. His lack of filter is a sudden issue. "Why pay me, then?" 

Darren's eyebrows draw together in confusion. "What?" 

"If you can - I mean. If you go out and pick guys up in bars. Why are you still paying so much for me?" The resentment in his voice is obvious and Darren looks shocked by it. 

"Chris..." He sits up, too, frowning. "I was drunk." 

"Okay." Chris pulls his knees up to him and crosses his arms over them. "So why don't you do it sober?" 

"Because I can't... because I don't want to." 

"You can't or you don't want to?" Chris demands. 

"Both!" Darren starts to sound annoyed. "What does it even matter anyway? Do you actually care who I'm fucking?" 

"Of course I do!" Chris shouts. 

And there it is, anvil-heavy between them 

Chris's eyes are burning and he feels the clawing of a panic attack trying to take hold. He hasn't dealt with this in years and he's almost as angry over the fact that Darren can do this to him as he is over the idea of Darren sleeping with someone else. 

He turns and starts to get dressed without saying anything. Darren lets him. 

In the morning, Darren finds the money for Chris still on the table where he'd put it the night before. 

*

Darren calls Chris two days later. He’s almost surprised when Chris answers. 

“Let me make it up to you,” Darren asks softly. “Please. I hate knowing you’re mad at me.” 

“I’m not…” Chris stops. He won’t lie to Darren. “I shouldn’t be mad at you. I know this shouldn’t upset me.” 

He’s miserable, admitting this, and it sounds in his voice. Darren just wants to take that away. He wants to take every bad feeling Chris has away, and he feels more passionate about this than he has felt about anything in his career in a very long time. “I want to make it up to you,” he says again. “Let me book you.” 

The silence on the line speaks loudly of Chris’s conflict. 

“Please,” Darren says, and that voice his mom always yelled at for using on his grandparents to get extra presents totally still works. 

“Okay,” Chris says. “Book me on the site.” 

He hangs up after that. It’s not exactly a warm welcome, but Darren will take whatever chances he can. 

*

“So what’s the worst situation you could imagine with your job?” Darren asks. 

There was a romantic dinner, flowers and wine, and sex afterward that was more gentle than Chris has maybe ever been treated in bed. 

This is probably even better than that - this right now, curled up around each other. He can almost pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist, except it’s even better because Darren’s not one of those clients asking for that, asking for Chris to pretend he feels a certain way. 

“Falling in love with a client...,” Chris says, almost teasing with his hands on Darren’s chest. His warm, sweaty, come-streaked chest. Chris can tell he’s had to shave or wax for something in the past few weeks but it’s already growing back in, prickly under the touch. “That would be such a dumb thing to do.” 

Chris has a thousand different wants with every passing second but in this speck of a moment what he wants most is to be the person in Darren’s life that knows about all the stupid tiny details like when he has to wax. He wants to be the person Darren bitches to about it, maybe even be the person that helps him do it, be the person that teases him and rubs him down with lotion after. 

He doesn’t even know what job it’s for. He doesn’t know if it’s a filming thing or a photoshoot. Darren doesn’t talk about work. It’s like the minute he’s off of a set or out of a studio he just wants it out of his mind. Chris wonders if there are other people that Darren does talk to about that.

Jealousy sweeps through him immediately. 

Fuck. _Fuck._

Darren leans in and kisses his neck, reassuring but slightly amused, like he’s in on the joke.. “Well, it’s a good thing you’d never do that, then.” 

“Asshole,” Chris whispers, but god, he doesn’t mind at _all_. 

“Has anyone ever hurt you?” Darren ask a few moments later, allowing the subject to flow away from this thing that he’s terrified will be too much too fast and send Chris running. 

Chris looks so young like this - not young like he’s trying, but young like he _is_. 

Chris thinks before he answers. “Once,” he says, like confessing a secret. “It was the most terrifying experience of my life. I was new and I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know the warning signs.” 

“Warning signs?” Darren asks. 

“Yeah That’s why we meet in public for the first time, usually.” 

“You didn’t with me,” Darren points out. 

Chris shrugs. “You’re famous. You pay enough, you break the rules.” 

“So if someone paid enough, they could beat you?” Darren feels sick at the thought. 

Chris shakes his head, though. “Not me. There are others - they don’t mind that. They make more than me.” 

He says the last part with a wry twist of his lips, like it’s funny. 

It isn’t. It’s not funny to Darren at all. 

He curls in close and presses a kiss to Chris’s forehead. “I won’t hurt you.” 

Chris’s eyes go closed. His mouth is choirboy sweet, pink and perfect. He almost whispers when he says, “I know you won’t.” 

*

Darren never means to end up so out of it he can’t walk a straight line, but sometimes he just loses track of how many he’s throwing back. Sometimes he loses track on purpose, because then he has the excuse. 

He’s watching the world tilt in the luxurious bathroom of someone’s party, where he’s been summoned to plink the keys and produce something pretty. 

He’s like a trained monkey, he thinks. One one of those monkeys in the little red outfits that sit on someone’s shoulder playing a toy piano. That’s him. He’s a novelty and his music is the card he plays to get attention nowadays, but but at the end of the night they throw him some peanuts and he’s sent back to this purgatory where no one cares. 

He fumbles for his phone and calls Chris. 

“Hey,” Chris asks, using his regular _Chris_ voice and not his client-voice. “What’s up?” 

“Um.” Darren clears his throat. “Uh.” 

“Darren?” Chris says. 

“I’m a monkey,” Darren says. “I’m… shit. Chris.” 

“What? Darren, are you okay?” Chris asks, a little more urgency to his voice. 

“No,” Darren admits. “Can you come get me?” 

If Chris says no, it’ll just be like so many more wasted nights in his life. He’ll deal with that itching, crawling, restless feeling under his skin like he always has before. 

But right now he doesn’t want to follow the same path. He wants something else. He wants Chris. 

“Send me the address,” Chris says quietly. “I’ll be on my way.” 

*

 

Darren doesn’t remember much the next morning, but he wakes up to Chris in his bed. 

He watches him sleep for a few minutes. Maybe it’s creepy, but he doesn’t really care. Chris looks perfect just like this, not like some cliche of peace or being ethereal, but like… _real_. There’s a spot of drool on the corner of his mouth and his hair is messed up and he’s got faint stubble coming in, enough to be noticeable against the pale of his skin. When he shifts his head there’s a crease from the pillow on his cheek and he smacks his lips together slightly before settling into sleep again with a faint snore. 

“I love you,” Darren says out loud, without thinking about it. But once there’s out, there’s no panic or regret. It just feels like pressure off his chest, another inch closer to the clouds over his head parting. For better or for worse, he can’t stop the forward momentum happening within him. 

“Mm?” Chris mumbles back, then blinks his eyes open as the words settle in. “What?” 

Darren’s mouth tastes like something died in it, and his head is throbbing. He’s never felt anything more clearly in his life. “I’m in love with you.” 

Chris rolls onto his back, rubbing his eyes. “Fuck.”

*

Darren goes to shower. Chris needs some time, and Darren gets that. 

Chris is relieved. He sits on the edge of Darren’s bed and tries to talk himself out of just leaving outright. Darren’s certainly not paying him to be here right now, but Chris has reached a point of rarity for him - viewing visits to someone and time spent with someone as a thing that exists outside of the defined boundaries of his job. 

He wants to just _be_ with Darren, not be on the clock. His job is a safety net that keeps him from every feeling like he’s in too deep with anyone, but maybe now he wants to be. 

When Darren comes out of the shower, Chris is sitting in his kitchen staring at the bottle of whiskey Darren had done pre-party shots by himself with the night before. 

"Why would you even want to be with me?" Chris asks, voice stripped of bravado that he wears for the job. "You're a famous Hollywood actor." 

Darren snorts. "I'm a closeted actor with a drinking problem." 

"Oh, don't be a baby like that." Chris rolls his eyes. "Fine. You're a closeted actor with a drinking problem, and I'm the prostitute you're fucking. Maybe you're right, maybe we do belong together." 

"See?" Darren grins. "Knew you'd come around to my way of thinking." 

He pours shot for each of them. Darren doesn’t remotely feel like drinking, for once, but he takes what Chris pushes toward him. 

They knock them back, timing perfectly synced. 

"I could not be closeted," Darren says, pushing his shot glass around with his fingers. "That could be a thing I'm not." 

This time it's Chris that grabs the whiskey bottle and refills them both. 

They take the shots wordlessly. 

"I'm serious," Darren says. He looks at Chris. "I'm ready for a change. Like, past that. I fucking need a change. I need to do something." 

"You do," Chris agrees. "And that's a very brave change to make." 

Darren shrugs. "It's not that brave. I don't have much left to lose." 

"This could be good for your career. Look at Neil Patrick Harris. Look at Matt Bomer," Chris tries. 

"Or it could be really fucking bad." Darren shrugs again. "At this point, I don't care. I've got money, you know? I'll stop buying a new car every year and fire half the people that work for me. Go back to figuring out how to be a normal guy. None of this ever felt like it was gonna last anyway." 

"What would you do?" Chris asks. "If you left Hollywood." 

"Music, maybe? Or, hell, I don't know. Teach something. See if I can get some theater work. I could find something. I've got enough connections, if I'm not aiming too high." 

"You'd be an amazing music teacher." Chris smiles and reaches over the counter to grab Darren's hand. "I'm serious. You'd be amazing." 

"Maybe," is the most Darren will give him. "Would you be with me? If I did come out?" 

"I..." Chris lets go of Darren's hand. "I don't know. I'd have to think about it. Would you want me to quit my job?” 

“I don’t know,” Darren says. “I mean, if your job is something you’re passionate about, I’m not gonna be the asshole that tries to take it away from you. But it’s not what you really want to be doing forever, is it?” 

Chris thinks about doing another shot, but he’s already feeling slightly queasy. Maybe that isn’t the alcohol, though. “Not really,” he admits. “But it’s the only thing I’ve ever done.” 

“Well, that’d be your decision. I’d be fucking honored if you wanted my input on it, but I’d just be happy knowing you were coming home to me.” 

“I… I still have to think about it,” Chris says. “Is that okay?” 

Darren nods a little. "Okay. I'm gonna do it either way. But I want to be with you. You know that, right?" 

Chris nods helplessly at him. "Yeah. I know. I just don’t get _why_." 

*

Darren's in his car stuck in traffic when the phone rings. 

It's Chris. He's surprised. Chris doesn't call him that often. He sets the call up through his car's bluetooth and answers it with a, "Hey, gorgeous," just to see what Chris will say. 

Chris pauses awkwardly and then ignores it. "Dating me would be awful for your career. I sell my body. For a living. You'd be crucified." 

"Your real name and your picture aren't on the site," Darren says. "People might not even realize." 

"Things like that always get leaked." 

"Not always. I mean, you wouldn't know about the ones that don't get leaked, would you?" 

"... don't be logical at me while I'm freaking out." 

Darren laughs. "Sorry. I'll try to make less sense. I mean, it's not like that's something I get accused of very often anyway." 

"But it's more likely that people would find it." Chris switches back to the topic at hand. 

"I don't care," Darren insists. "I don't give a fuck."

"Maybe I do," Chris says. "You know what they'd say about that. Maybe I don't want to put myself through it. Or do you not care about that, either?" 

Darren breathes in and out, rocking his palms back and forth over the steering wheel. Chris isn't mad at him. He gets it. Chris is just kind of a dick when he's stressing out. It's not like Darren can throw stones. "I care," he says. "About you. Not about what anyone else thinks, though." 

"But you'd want me to quit my job, wouldn't you?" Chris asks. 

"I mean..." Darren looks at himself in the rearview mirror. "Does the idea of you sleeping with other people make me happy? Fuck, no. Are you saying you'd want to keep doing it?" 

"Darren." Chris snaps. "I've never had any other job. I'm not qualified to do anything else." 

Darren has no answer for that so he sticks to the tried and true method of lying to buy some time." "Hey, look, I'm about to pull into this place for a meeting, but come over for dinner? Or... meet me somewhere, maybe?" 

Chris sighs. "I'll come over. But we're talking about this." 

"Absolutely," Darren promises, and hangs up. Traffic has barely moved and he's feeling the beginnings of a headache. This meeting will be torture and he has no doubt his agent and manager will try to talk him out of coming out. He has no idea how things with Chris are going to shake down and his entire future is up in the air. 

But somehow he still feels better than he has in a while. 

*

It occurs to Chris as he gets out of his car that this is the first time he's ever gone to Darren's knowing that he was officially off the books. This is dinner with his - well, not his significant other, not yet, but his... something. 

Not his client, though. Not anymore. 

Darren seems to have realized the same thing because it's not the slouchy Darren in pajama pants and a t-shirt that answers the door. Darren is wearing black slacks and a button up, hair tousled and gelled a little. The house smells like delicious food and he offers Chris a glass of wine. 

"This is a date," Chris says, slightly accusatory. 

Darren grins. "Guilty?" 

"This is a date," Chris says again. 

"Is that okay?" Darren asks. 

Chris crosses his arms over his chest. "I've... this is embarrassing. I've never been on a date." 

Darren's mouth drops open the tiniest bit before he composes himself. "Well, shit. I've got a job to do, then." 

Chris laughs. "That just means I have nothing to compare it to." 

"Yeah, exactly, and I have to make it such a fucking awesome date that you never want to have anything to compare it to in the future." 

Chris is wholly unprepared for Darren to be so romantic. He wonders if this was Darren all the time, back when he first started climbing the Hollywood ladder. Darren's always been charming, charismatic, he's always drawn Chris to him - but there's just something extra there now. There's a spark that wasn't there before. 

Chris likes it. 

* 

"We do need to talk," Chris says. 

They're naked. All jokes about putting out on the first date aside, it's the best sex they've ever had. They kissed forever through it, bodies rocking close and comfortable, no space between them. Even now Chris is curled into Darren while Darren lazily plays with his fingers. 

Chris never wants to move again, and a big part of him doesn't want to have this conversation he's pushing either. But he's always been a realist and he thinks the only thing that would make this nicer is not having anything unpleasant looming over his head.

"Okay," Darren says. He stretches, knees popping, and then kisses Chris on the forehead. "Talk."

"I am fine with quitting my job, but I'm not fine with not having one," he says. "I don't have enough money saved to comfortably be able to live on my own with the same quality I've gotten used to and there's no other job I could find that would match what I make now. I'm not qualified for anything else." 

There's a painful, vulnerable little waiver right there at the end. He's not undervaluing his worth; he's just being honest. 

“What about school?” Darren asks. “Do you want to go to school?” 

Chris shakes his head. “Not really. It was just… I was never good at it.” 

“I know you don’t want me to get you a job, but what if I just introduced you to some people? Maybe someone that can give you some pointers, I don’t know, hook you up with something while you’re figuring things out?” 

“And what would I do in the mean time?” Chris asks. “Just, just live here, with you? And what would this do to _your_ career? What I’ve done for a living is going to come out at some point.” 

“What if… what if we both started over?” Darren asks. He’s staring ahead now, not looking at Chris. “What if I sold this place and said fuck the money and we both hit some new city and just… found jobs?” 

“That would never work. You’re famous. You’d never just be ‘finding a job’,” Chris says. “And I don’t think ‘fuck the money’ is actually viable financial advice for anyone.” 

“Actually…” Darren looks at him now. “I’ve been talking to some of my college pals, you know? And they want to start this theater program. And I was thinking, I could just… donate all my money to it and then work there. I mean, technically my donation would be paying my own salary, but it would feel… I don't’ know, better.” 

“More rewarding?” Chris supplies. 

“Right!” Darren nods. “That’s exactly it.” 

Chris is smiling at him. “Darren, I think that sounds perfect for you.” 

“And you liked Chicago, right?” Darren says, sounding hopeful.

“I don’t…” Chris doesn’t want to give him a definite yes. He doesn’t want to say something he can’t commit to later. 

Darren seems to get it. “I’m not saying you to make a decision right now. I’m just saying… you liked Chicago, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah,” Chris says, nodding. “I liked Chicago.” 

Darren grabs his hand. “Then that’s good enough for me right now.” 

 

Epilogue

Their first apartment together is a negotiation hard-won by Chris. It’s about the size of Darren’s former walk in closet in his Los Angeles house, and he tries to claim at first that his instruments won’t even fit in there. 

But they find room for the instruments eventually, and room for a double bed and a second-hand couch, a dresser where their clothes tend to mingle together and a bookshelf that they cram half full of music and knickknacks and half full of books. 

Darren teases Chris relentlessly when he realizes Chris hasn’t read but maybe a third of his book collection, while Darren’s actually read most of them. 

Chris teases Darren when he spots a couple awards sticking out of a box, but he stops when he realizes Darren is genuinely embarrassed. He pulls one out and sticks it on the shelf, kissing Darren on the cheek just afterwards. “You should be proud of what you did,” Chris says. “You inspired a lot of people with your work. And now you’re moving on to something that will inspire even more.” 

Darren accepts the praise with a practiced grace on the surface, but his arms wrap tight around Chris. “Thanks.” 

They’re barely given the weekend to settle in before Darren starts at the music center and Chris starts at a coffee shop not too far away. What the two of them make combined will pay their rent and leave them a little bit to have fun on. 

And they do have fun. It surprises Darren a little when his old friends start checking up on him, dropping in and saying hi. Chris loves them for putting that smile on Darren’s face and being the reason Darren slowly begins to come back to life. 

When they go out, Darren has two drinks and stops. They never call him on why, and Chris loves them even more for that. They talked about rehab and Darren agreed if he had any issues once they were in Chicago he’d find a clinic or at least a counselor, but with Chris waiting for him at home every night he doesn’t have the same urges he used to. It feels healthy - not like Chris is a crutch, but like things inside of himself that needed fixing are getting better and the urge to have a life he can enjoy is just one of the motivating factors. 

There’s a little media attention, especially that first month. There are articles, accusations, backlash. 

Darren doesn’t see most of it. His last big blowout before he funneled his small screen dollars into various scholarships and charity projects, the one indulgence Chris let him have: that three week long vacation they took, isolated from civilization in a tiny little town in Italy. By the time they’d emerged their belongings were settled into the new place and the next big scandal had taken over the news cycles. 

The fan attention takes longer to fade out. Chris is sure that it will never stop completely - people seeing Darren on the street and wanting to say hi, snap a photo or get an autograph. Darren doesn’t mind that part, though. 

“This what you always wanted?” Chris looks over the counter at Darren one morning as they make breakfast. They've got plans for the day, dedicated plans to do nothing really all except maybe walk down to the farmer's market and get some vegetables to make with pasta for dinner. In the afternoon they might go for coffee, or maybe they'll just spend a few hours in bed instead. Darren's not over the honeymoon phase he's enjoying with his newly unscheduled existence.

Darren looks around, then looks back at Chris. “Yeah. I think it is.”


End file.
